We Begin at the End(95)



An hour and she was on Main Street. She left the bike out front of Jackson Hollis Funeral Parlor and stepped inside, the central air hitting her so hard her skin pricked.

“Duchess,” Magda said with a smile. “Nice to see you again.”

Magda ran the place with her husband, Kurt, a man that shared pallor with his clientele. He must have been with someone because the drape was pulled, the coffins hid.

“I wanted to collect my grandfather’s ashes.”

“I wondered when you’d come. Shelly said she’d bring you one day.”

“She’s in the car.” Duchess nodded toward a Nissan across the street, parked at an angle that blocked the view.

Magda headed out back and returned a minute later with a small urn.

Duchess took it, turned to leave as the drapes parted and Dolly came out, Kurt behind. Duchess slipped out and onto the sidewalk, made it almost to Cherry’s before Dolly caught up with her.

“Duchess.”

Dolly led her inside and sat her down in the corner. She went to the counter and ordered for them.

Dolly had aged, makeup not quite so perfect, hair not curled so neat. She still wore the names, Chanel bag and shoes.

“I’d say it’s nice to see you back here.”

“But.”

Dolly smiled.

“I’m sorry about Bill. I didn’t know.”

“He was ready. Turned out I was not.”

Duchess’s bag lay open, the clothes, the cans. She pulled it closed and zipped it.

Dolly looked at her with sadness.

“What will you do now?” Duchess asked.

“Bury my husband. Beyond that I haven’t given it much thought. There were trips, places we wanted to see. I don’t know if I’ll do it alone. But he had a good life, that’s all we can ask, right?”

“Thomas Noble talks about fair.”

Dolly smiled. “I get that.”

“Fair means someone is in control.”

“I heard about the man. It was on the news. I thought of you, and of Robin. Maybe that’s what Thomas Noble meant. About how someone goes through life causing pain to others, and some people just try and get on. The two always seem to collide.”

Duchess thought of Dolly, her life, her father, impression cast. “Hal said that man was the cancer of our family. His reach is far, to me and Robin. To my brother. I can’t …”

Dolly reached over and closed a hand over hers. “Maybe you don’t choose who you get to be. Maybe it’s predefined. Some of us are outlaws. Maybe we find each other.”

“And maybe it’s all nothing. No one in control but the person willing to go out and take what they want.”

“Do you know about justice, Duchess?”

“Three-Fingered Jack. He rode five hundred miles to avenge the death of his partner, Frank Stiles.”

“But what do you think it means? And I don’t mean defined, I mean what do you think it means for the people that get hurt.”

“An end. I could take it back to breathing. But I know that’s not enough.”

“And for Robin? What do you think he wants?”

“He’s six. He does not know what he wants. He does not know a world beyond the immediate.”

“And you?”

“I know too much.”

The waitress came over with two cocoas and a small cupcake with a single candle in it. She placed them down, winked at Duchess and then returned to the counter.

“Happy birthday, Duchess.”

Duchess stared at the cake. “You didn’t need to—”

“Hush, now. It’s not every day a girl turns fourteen. You need to make a wish.”

When she realized Dolly would not quit she leaned forward, closed her eyes and blew.

Outside they walked the shaded side of the street. When they got to the parlor Duchess picked up the bicycle and wheeled it along.

Dolly stopped beside her truck. “There’s a lot I should say here.”

“But nothing I don’t already know.”

“Will you come back to the house? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

“I can’t. I have to get on.”

“Another time.”

“Sure.”

Dolly took her hand. “Promise me you’ll stop by one day.”

“I will.”

“And I know you’ll make good on that. An outlaw is only as good as her word.” Dolly looked frail then, written with concern, like Duchess was even close to being her problem.

“I can check on Robin.”

Duchess nodded, a slight tremble in her lower lip. She would have to get tougher for what would come.

“You stay safe, Duchess.”

And then Dolly reached into her bag and took out her purse. As she began counting bills Duchess got on the bicycle and rode.

She turned at the end of Main.

She waved and Dolly raised a hand.

Duchess made it to Radley land an hour off noon, legs burning, T-shirt damp through, hair slicked down. She buried the bike in grassland by the gates and walked slowly up the winding driveway, beneath the praying trees, beside the dead water.

She thought of Robin, if he was at school now, if Shelly was with him. It took all she had not to break from her path, return and fall to her knees and take him in her arms. She’d kept one photograph, him smiling, a year back when his hair was longer. She took it from her bag as she climbed the old porch steps and sat on the swinging seat.

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